


¡Átame!

by pokey_jr



Series: Metamorphoses [4]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Choking, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, F/M, Lick lick lick my balls, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Second Person, Rick's terrible puns, Rope Bondage, Smut, yes there is enthusiastic ball licking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-20 12:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12432972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokey_jr/pseuds/pokey_jr
Summary: Rick has a few loose ends to tie up before departing the Smith household.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will make more sense if you've read the first three in the series, but also it's just porn so who cares

"You know, you get along so well with my dad," Beth says late one afternoon. You stand with her in the kitchen, sipping the glass of wine she offered, keeping her company while she stirs a pot of pasta for dinner. Morty's tutoring session for the day is over, but Beth had detained you on your way out the door. When you had first met her a year ago, she seemed much less concerned about her family than she does now. She still drinks, but now she frets about her children's well being instead of about her job. She complains less about Jerry, too. You know that they had spent some time separated, Jerry had moved out for about six months. Part of their reconciliation seems to stem from their unification against Rick.

You're not sure how to respond to Beth's observation, though. Obviously, Rick's family doesn't know that he's been banging his grandson's tutor on the reg for almost a year. And this is despite you and Rick not bothering to be particularly covert.

"I... uh... I guess so," you say after a fortifying sip of wine. If Beth ever found out about the nature of your relations with her father, you would probably have to move to another state. It would be that mortifying. The rest of the family wouldn't be so bad. Jerry's reaction might even be entertaining.

Many afternoons when you come over to see Morty, Rick intercepts you at the front door and pulls you into his workshop in the garage... he's cornered you in the kitchen while Jerry is in the living room watching TV, lifted you onto the counter and fucked you oh so slowly, growling lust filled profanity in your ear. He won’t bother silencing you. “Let Jerry hear,” he says. Once, he takes you to the balcony off of Beth and Jerry's room 'for old times' sake'. With Rick, nothing is off limits, except if you tell him 'no'. That's been the most pleasant surprise, a feature of his character you feel a little guilty for not expecting. Sure, he is crass and dismissive and blunt, but he is respectful. That's not to say he isn't completely perverted and deviant. And he teaches you a lot. So many alien sex toys.

Around his family, Rick drops a few what seem to you like very obvious hints, such as announcing that he’s hungry for ‘hair pie’ when you enter a room. But it seems like soon these rendezvous will probably come to an end. Rick will be moving out, ostensibly to a retirement community called 'Cocoon Creek'. That's what Beth and Jerry believe, anyway. Privately, you wonder how secure that facility is, and whether Rick will even show up. 

Perhaps it will be for the best-- at least, for you. The time you've spent with Rick has started to feel dangerously intimate. Following one disastrous, violent weekend, he had disappeared for a month, and what a miserable month that was. You couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t sleep, wondering what had happened to him. Text messages unanswered, Beth and Jerry as clueless as you were.

The absence prompted you to make plans that didn’t involve him. Real dates with normal guys within 6 years of your age. Revolutionary. But you can't pretend, sitting over dinners at these bland restaurants, that you don't miss his company sometimes. His raucous laughter when he had found out he was in your phone contacts as 'Rick "Hot Mess" Sanchez', his penchant for outlandish costumes at inappropriate times, his mistaken belief that he could improve his limited Spanish from reading the menu at Don Cuco’s.

When he turns up again, you’re too happy and relieved to ask for an explanation, which you know you’ll never get anyway. He is different, though, in small ways, when he thinks you won’t notice. One afternoon he enlists you and Morty to help him pack up his stuff in the garage. While he leans against his workbench sipping a martini, you quiz his grandson on biology topics. Rick steps out, and you reassure Morty he’s doing well, but his face really lights up when Rick returns with ice cream bars for the three of you. Later that afternoon Rick catches you before you leave, pulls you into Jerry’s office and seduces you thoroughly. His mouth is still sticky and he takes his sweet time with you, with the aim of defiling all of his son-in-law’s furniture. 

Beth clears her throat. "We... look, there's no easy way to ask this. We told you we're moving him to a retirement community, right?"

You nod, not mentioning that although Beth and Jerry had indeed told you, you had heard it first from Rick himself, and then from Summer and Morty as well. 

"It's a nice place. It'll be good for him. Jerry convinced me after the holiday party." She doesn't sound all that convinced.

"What does R-- what does your dad think about it?”

Beth gives you a guilty look. "Would you mind visiting him there sometimes? I'm worried he's going to be lonely, and right now he won't want to see me because... you know. Jerry. And I don't know how often the kids will make time for him."

"Uh..." Do nursing homes even allow conjugal visits? How can you tell Beth that you won't be visiting because you doubt he’ll be there?

Jerry wanders in, saving you from having to answer. "Hey, if it isn’t Morty's tutor! Joining us for dinner? We're having a little going-away shindig to celebrate."

"Uh... to celebrate...?"

"My wife's father is finally moving out of the house!"

You 'hmm' in acknowledgment through a sip of wine.

"Jerry, what did I tell you about gloating over this?"

His good mood can’t be denied. He gets a beer from the fridge. “Well I happen to think I deserve to gloat a little.” Then he leans in and confides, “just yesterday, we were playing that game where you ask each other what three wishes you would ask of a genie, and-- get this-- he said _‘I wish the genie wouldn’t exist’_.”

“Just a game, Jerry,” Beth says, emptying the rest of a bottle of wine into her glass.

“Oh, please, Beth. He basically said he would murder Robin Williams! He’s a nutcase who wants to fool us into believing he’s going senile! Think about all the things we’ve seen him do that have horrified us—now imagine that those are only the ones he couldn’t hide from us, or allowed us to see.”

“Well as _I_ told _you_ over and over, I didn’t want to make my father into someone else’s problem.”

You happen to agree with both of them-- Rick is unpredictable at best and sociopathic at worst, and he has an uncanny way of dominating almost any situation he’s in. Somehow, that hasn’t stopped you from associating with him.

“Well as I told you over and over, sometimes the best way to deal with a problem is to igno--”

"Dad!" Says Beth. "Speak of the devil!"

"And he shall appear!" Jerry finishes smugly, proud of himself for remembering the whole phrase.

"Yeah that's-- that's really clever, Jerry. Great job. You too, Beth. Together you form a single being of passable sentience, congraa--eeeuurgh--tulations." Rick enters the kitchen, bleary eyed with a bit of a slouch. He’s still half a head taller than Jerry, thinner and with more energy held in his angular body. Your reaction to him is embarrassing, but you couldn’t help it the first time you saw him or any of the times after. He just has that effect on you. Rick notices you staring at him and gives you what is probably the least subtle wink ever. You feel very distinctly what would rudely be described as ‘creaming your panties’. You’re pretty sure if Rick were to put his hand up your skirt right now, he would find you slick and ready. 

Neither his daughter nor his son-in-law notice the wink, or the fact that you’re eyeing up the oldest man in the house.

"So, staying for dinner?"

"Thanks, but I don't think I can," you say. "I have plans."

"Oh," Beth says. "Romantic plans?" She has been hounding you for ages about your lack of stable dating life, and is always quick to latch onto any indication that you might have a boyfriend. Her enthusiasm flatters and shames you in equal parts. It’s nice to know she has your best interests in mind, but you can’t help feeling guilty every time you walk out of the garage with her father’s cum dripping from wherever and she offers you a glass of wine and wants to have ‘girl talk’. What are you supposed to tell her? _‘I’ve been fuck buddies with your dad for the past year and his dick is incredible and I don’t want to admit to myself that I might have a crush on him.’_ On second thought, maybe you should say something just so you can cut your ties and move on with your life.

You glance at Rick, who drinks from his beer can after pouring part of his flask in it.  
"Um. No. Maybe."

Meanwhile, Jerry rummages in the cupboard and comes away with a package of wafer cookies. 

“A date?” Beth presses.

You laugh over the noise of Jerry munching cookies, not missing Rick’s narrow-eyed glare. “I’m not sure I would realize if it was one. Anyway, I should get going.”

Rick lurches up from where he’s leaning against the counter. “Sounds-- sounds great, I’ll-- let me waaa-eeeuurgh-alk you to the door.” You smile, make your goodbyes to Beth and Jerry, and wait for Rick to precede you out. As he passes Jerry, he snatches away the box of wafer cookies. He takes a few steps, hesitates, then goes back, swats the half eaten cookie in Jerry’s hand to the floor, and crushes it under his heel. “Next time you want something hard and pink in your mouth, come to me first, _Jerry._ ”

As you try to repress a cackle at Jerry’s snivelling dismay, Rick takes you by the elbow and steers you through the living room, then past the front door and the stairs, down the hallway, and into his room. Damn old man strength.

“Rick, what are you doing? I’m supposed to be meeting someone in, like, half an hour downtown--” He claps a hand over your mouth and shuts the door, enclosing the two of you in the dim space. 

“Here’s what I’m-- here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna strip and lie down on the bed for me. And I’m gonna lick your sweet pussy and get a niiiiice good taste before I sit down to dinner with my family.” He smirks when he sees your eyes widen. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you. You like thinking about my tongue on your clit, my fingers in your tight wet cunt, huh? Or is it knowing that I'll go back to my family with the taste of your pussy still in my mouth? That's what really gets you wet, isn't it. You think I should make you lick my fingers clean before I go shake Jerry’s hand?”

A gush of arousal courses through you at that shameful thought. Embarrassing to think about Rick doing that, and even more embarrassing at the feeling it evokes in you. And Rick knows it. God, he knows you too well. 

“I-I don’t give a shit if anyone hears, you scream as loud as you need to, baby. Cum for me once and I promise you'll get to your appointment.” His voice is guttural, his eyes gleam. _Fuck._ A minute alone with him in a room and you’re gone. It’s the voice. Always his voice. That was the first thing about him, the first way he got you off, over the phone, rough and teasing, talking to you like he already knew everything you wanted.

He waits for your answer-- nod or shake, yes or no. When it comes to this, he doesn’t push, and you adore him for it. You’ve mentioned him to friends, anonymously of course, and this always comes up. That he’s respectful, and open. Those shouldn’t be rare traits. Then again, when you invited him along to your friend’s birthday party, he showed up with a cake with ‘poontang’ written on it in icing, so that should be all the warning you need that he’s not exactly respectable.

You nod and he lowers his hand. Once you’re naked, you sit on the cot he calls his bed. It’s made military-style with a green wool blanket and crisp white sheet, and you’ve never seen it with less than perfect hospital corners. It’s the only thing in his room that’s tidy. The rest of the dingy space is crowded with diagrams on the walls, various gadgets, and cardboard boxes he hasn’t bothered to unpack. There’s a window looking out on the street, but he’s hung blackout curtains. And he has an electron microscope, of which you are extremely jealous. 

But that’s not really your concern right now. “I'm on a schedule,” you remind him. 

He raises an eyebrow as if you’ve said something impertinent, but kneels in front of you all the same, and pushes your bare legs further apart. You blush at his open perusal of your naked form. The plain lust in his eyes as he looks from your breasts to your stomach to your bare sex. He bites his bottom lip, sucking in air. “God _damn._ ”

“Rick, seriously.” You don’t try to cover yourself, or act coy. He has no patience for that. Demure and timid don’t tempt him.

“Hmm. Always so eager.” His fingers grip the soft flesh of your thighs. You know what’s next, you know to expect his tongue in quick strokes on your clit. Shame that your last hookup with Rick in this house will be so short. Except-- he doesn’t. He nuzzles your thighs and hips and belly, hitches your legs over his shoulders. He reaches one hand to squeeze your breasts, playing with the nipples in a cruel imitation of what you really need. You beg without shame for his finger in your pussy, or his tongue on your clit, your need for completion increasing along with anxiety that he’s going to make you late.

But he is determined to enjoy you at exactly the pace he wants, and it’s infuriating. He has one arm pinning your hips like a steel bar and he chuckles when you try to buck it. Out of desperation, you move to grab his hair and guide him to where he _should_ be-- only to find your hands are tied. Literally. 

There are ropes around your wrists, and when you look up, trying to pull your hands away, they tighten. _How the hell had he…?_ “Rick!”

He looks up at you with a devastating smirk. “They’re called Rope-bots.” He is enormously pleased with himself. You tend to enjoy his lame puns, but this isn’t the time and you’re about to tell him so but then he-- _oh._ His finger is in your pussy, curving come-hither. His tongue presses flat and wide on your clit. He makes a ‘hmm’ as he licks full, languid circles. You strain at the ropes, at his hold on you, at the unbearable sweet ache. 

Every time you say something impatient, he goes slower to spite you. Slower and more insistent. Each restless movement and the ropes constrict. He has you just where he wants you and-- stops. “You- you want more, baby, you-- I gotta hear you. You wanna cum, right?”

You whimper, but it’s quiet. Too quiet for what he wants. You’re worried his family can already hear you through the thin walls. He deprives you of his mouth. “I-is that a ‘no’?”

“I…”

Fingers gone. 

You watch him with desperation. “God, please, Rick… I’m going to...” You’re so close. “You’re going to make me late.”

His eyebrow quirks. Well, that was the wrong thing to say. “Hell, if you insist.” He pushes your legs back further and then his fingers go to your pussy, teasing some of the wetness, tracing down the sensitive flesh to the tight pucker of your asshole.

You let your head drop back in frustration and desire. “Rick is this…”

“Y-you really wanna keep asking me things right now? You wanna keep escalating? Because as-- as it is you-- I’m gonna--” he pushes a single digit into your ass “--fuck you however I want, as long as I feel like it.” His other hand comes to splay his long fingers over your mound, flat on your stomach, with his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. Oh god... “And you know I-- you got somewhere to be, some limp dick _intellectual_ you wanna suck off and talk about feelings with--” he works another finger in, and starts to thrust shallowly. He gives a hoarse laugh when you say his name. “Yeah, you wanna cum for me with just my fingers in your tight little asshole, is that it? Y-you’re so fucking wet for me you can’t even wait for my dick.”

“Please, yes, I want…” It comes out as an embarrassing sob but you need him, just a little more, a little faster. 

A voice outside the door freezes you in your tracks. “Dad? Dinner’s ready!”

Rick grunts and gets up, paying no heed to your whimpered protest. You watch him go to the chest of drawers under his desk-- he hasn’t even removed his lab coat, damnit-- and come back over with a bottle of lube in one hand and in the other… _oh, no._ This isn’t over. He’s barely even started. 

He drizzles lube on the butt plug, and with little fanfare, presses it into your ass. The thick bulb hurts for a moment, but when it’s fully inserted, it only extends the agonizing pleasure he’s been teasing you with for close to half an hour. “Don’t cum till I-- eeurgh-- till I get back.”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continued directly from the end of the first part

Much to your annoyance, Rick leaves the door ajar, and you are still nude and restrained by the ‘Rope-bots’. Damn it, that would be funny if you weren’t worried that any one of the Smith family might come down the hallway and peek in. 

But with the door open, you can faintly hear the conversation around the dinner table. 

"Kids," Jerry says. "your mother and I have some exciting news. Your grandpa Rick is moving into his own place!"

"We already know that," says Summer. "He's going to that place where they sequester old people so no one has to watch them die."

"Yeah, he told us weeks ago when he was trying to get us to let him hide his stash of illegal stuff in our rooms."

"Dad!" Beth sounds offended, and Jerry is indignant.

"Rick, I thought we agreed on how we would break it to the kids! This is sensitive!"

"Tough titties, Jerry. I had to start making plans, since apparently I can't even count on my own family for a safe place to stay. And by the way, thanks for nothing, _Morty._ "

"Aw jeez, Rick, I-I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"Don't apologize, Morty. Never apologize! No one respects people who apologize like it’s a-- eeeuurgh-- a reflex. Besides, I already scoped the place and they've got tons of hot nurses. Grandpa'll be juuuuuust fine, Morty. There's gonna be-- gonna be a lot of voluptuous young ladies eager to help give Grandpa a sponge bath."

"Grandpa, I think things might have changed since Vietnam," Summer drawls. "Nurses wear scrubs and orthopedic clogs now, not candy stripes."

"Great observation, Sum-Sum, but don't worry about it. Grandpa has a plan.”

Jerry clears his throat. "I really don't think that kind of conversation is appropriate at the dinner table, Rick. And certainly not in front of the kids!"

"What, Jerry, you don't want me to have a good time? Whatever happened to respecting your elders? Look, you wanna know what I-- h-here's my advice for you, Morty. Thicc thighs save lives. You-you got that? You writing that down? Go ahead. I'm adding it to my rotation of catchphrases."

"Uh-- uh huh, sure-sure thing, Rick, I'll make sure to do-- to just go put it in my notebook where I record all of your wisdom.”

Ok, good, Mo-eeeuurgh-orty, that's good and I'm g- I'm choosing to ignore your impudent tone, b--ut listen, I'll say it again, thicc thighs save lives. I-I don’t know if you could hear it in my pronunciation but that’s ‘thicc’ with two c’s and no k. It’s important you learn this because your dad has noooooo comprehension of the finer things in life. Pretty sure he married Beth because he was too scared to back out of a dare-- no offense, sweetie.”

A chorus of ‘dad!’, ‘Rick!’, and ‘grandpa!’ circles the table. 

Rick belches. “Well, this was nice, nice dinner, Beth. I’ll be right back, gotta take a shit.”

You hear a chair scraping on hardwood floor, footsteps growing closer. Rick re-enters the room and slams the door behind him. He shrugs out of his lab coat. Then he takes a look at your flushed cheeks and wide eyes and pulls his shirt over his head. “Miss me?”

You spread your legs wider. He smirks. Pushes your legs together and climbs onto the bed, straddling you. _Why?_ You want to ask, but at this point you know better. _What were you expecting? For him to sweep back in here and take pity on you? To kiss you passionately and tell you he’ll miss this when he moves out? Fat fucking chance._

He sits back on his heels. Waiting for you to ask. He unbuckles his belt, unzips his fly, pulls out his cock. Your mouth waters, as pathetic as that is. He takes his thick shaft in hand and starts stroking himself to full hardness. Daring you to ask. But you stay quiet, with a plug filling your ass and your pussy empty. You want him and he knows it, but-- _shit._

“A-are you sure-- I mean, you want me to just cum all over your face and your tits, right? That’s what you’re telling me with your stoic silence?”

How easily he breaks you. “No Rick please I want to-- please let me cum.” Even after a year, it makes you squirm to say it aloud. It’s just so filthy. But exhilarating. The unibrow raise he gives you is worth it. So worth it. 

“That’s all you want?”

“I want …” Anything. Anything he deigns to give you. But you can’t answer. Can hardly form a sentence. It feels like you haven’t really had a conversation with him-- not one that matters-- since that evening of the fight. You can’t think of it any other way. It wasn’t a bloodbath, because Rick had cleaned everything up afterward, and it wasn’t an execution, because the man he had prompted you to kill had tried to kill you (or was it Rick?) first. Since then it’s been phatic exchanges, and you laugh at his puns because they’re funny. Yet there is nothing else. He makes an effort occasionally, he shows up when you text him, he brings cakes with lewd slogans. He is convenient and fun, and if you expect anything else you’ll be disappointed.

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Like waiting for the doctor to torture you with his tongue depressor. 

Maybe he does know what’s best. He grabs his balls, shifts forward slightly. “Open wide, biii-eeeurrgh-itch.” When you hesitate, he grips your jaw. There is a dark, crazed glint in his eyes. 

This is all you get. And you’ll take it. You wonder if he realizes what a treat this is. Have you ever actually told him how much you like his saggy old man balls? You lick gently. Rick groans, still stroking his shaft. “Is this… this is it? You just wanna lick my balls?”

You want to do more than that, and you show him, sucking one and then the other. It can’t be normal to enjoy this, but, well, Rick and normal don’t coexist. He settles, straddling your chest. “Th-that’s… oh, ffuck yessss. So good, such a good slut, licking my-- yeah, u-use that tongue. Y-you’d do anything for me, huh? I bet-- I bet your pussy is still niiiiice and slick right now because you... nnnnnh… you fucking love this. You like having a dirty old man’s balls in your mouth, don’t you? Let me, uh, let me hear you, baby, I don’t care if your mouth is full, tell me how much you like it.” 

You clench at his voice and moan, still sucking and licking. “Mhmm.” Absolutely. Pleasing him is its own reward, a dirty secret that conflicts with your idea of yourself as a confident, independent young woman. 

Rick pulls away, leaving your mouth empty for a second, then fills it again with his dick. He cradles the back of your head and starts pumping in and out, going a little further than is comfortable. His eyes are hooded as he looks down at you, detached, observing the effect he has on you, what he makes you do to fall apart. The times when you can turn the tables on him, get him to lose his composure for just a moment, then he is magnificent. He fucks deeper, still slow and lazy, hitting the back of your throat. You gag and choke, saliva dribbles out. He likes when you get all sloppy, likes to make a mess of you and leave too soon to help clean it up. 

 

Your eyes water. You moan around the girth of him and look up pleadingly. No mercy, no quarter. He strokes your hair away from your face, but doesn’t stop. He tells you he likes how you look with his dick fucking your mouth, and that since you’re so quiet he’s happy to help you find a use for it. His smile stokes your desire anew. _Oh, god…_ what if he cums and leaves you here for a couple hours, then returns for another round? He could go sit down for dessert, maybe play that inane dice game. You wouldn’t put it past him. 

He withdraws from your lips, leaving a strand of saliva hanging from your tongue to the head of his cock. He’s going to tease you and torture you for as long as he can keep you before he has to leave, that’s what this is about. You take a shaky breath, eyeing his massive erection. After all this time, it’s still weirdly intimidating. 

Rick swipes his thumb over the head of his cock and starts stroking himself. All this and he’s not even going to do you the favor of cumming in your mouth? You pout at him, and voice this sentiment.

He shrugs. “Who said you deserve it? Gotta see more than J.V. effort--”

A knock on the door interrupts him mid-stroke. “Rick? Dessert’s ready! We’re all about to sit down.”

Rick’s expression darkens considerably. “Fucking Jerry,” he mutters. Then aloud: “Y-yeah I’ll be there in a mi--eeeuurgh-inute.”

Another knock, more assertive. Rick’s brow furrows. He looks murderous, but gets off the bed and makes himself decent, even throwing his lab coat back on over his shirt. Right at the door, he does a second take, then stalks back to the chest of drawers across from his cot. He comes back to you with a purple vibrator which is nowhere near as big as his cock. “S-same rule. Don’t cum.” And pushes it into your raw pussy.

You bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming-- at Rick or your body’s visceral reaction, you don’t know. This is going to be your undoing. You dig your nails into your palms, to focus on the pain, and wonder vaguely about how the ‘Rope-bots’ actually work. Anything to distract from Rick’s unfair advantage.

And yet, despite them being right outside, you have a difficult time listening to Rick and Jerry’s exchange. Rick hasn’t even shut the door all the way. It’s ajar, and all you can think is that between the electric buzz of the vibrator and your own repressed moans, Jerry is bound to hear something.

However, it seems that Jerry has his own agenda. “Are you, uh, okay?”

Rick scoffs. “Oh, so you care about how I feel now? You would know that if you knew the title of my favorite 1993 single by Salt n Pepa. Oh what's that? You don't know. It's None of Your Businessss, asshole. Hah! Yeah you stupid fucker, Rick Sanchez got it swingin again!” You twist futilely at the ropes. The combination of the plug and vibrator is unbearable. If Rick doesn’t keep this conversation short, you might not be able to obey his rule.

“Swinging...swinging what?” Jerry sounds scared, but recovers. “You know what? No! I don’t want to know. I will not be spoken to this way in my own house! What are you hiding in there? More drugs? Illegal aliens?”

"I don't think that's a question you want answered, Jerry.”

“No, I’m going in! I have a right to know what kind of person I’ve let stay in my house--”

"Wh-whoa, Jerry, jeez. Don't-- you shouldn't-- I wouldn't go in there if I were you. I'm conducting some highly advanced research, veeeeery sensitive. You go in there, you’re- you'll see things that'll make you question every choice you've ever made. Don't do it, Jerry." Even with the threat of being discovered, your need can't be stifled, and worse, the harder you try, the stronger the sensations get. When you clench around the vibrator, the buzzing intensifies. You wouldn't be surprised if Rick invented it himself.

 

“You can’t push me around anymore, Rick, let me pas-- Oh.” Though you can’t see what’s happening, you can guess from Jerry’s tone. After all, Rick had walked out there with a boner that wasn’t exactly easy to conceal.

God damn it, this is happening. You struggle as you feel your body start to betray you, the delicious tension coiled like a spring compressing just a bit more. Rick is going to be pissed but you're past caring; let him come back in to see you sated without his touch. “Yeah, Jerry, that kind of research. And by the way, I’m free ballin it. Now you-- if you want to go tell Beth and the kids, or-or-or wait outside, I’ll get you some crayons and paper so you can shut up and color and we can all get on with our lives.”

With that, Rick leaves Jerry spluttering in the hallway and swings the door shut behind him. He sighs, shrugs out of his lab coat, and cants his head, listening for Jerry’s retreating footsteps. He regards you with a bemused expression.

Before he says anything, searing pleasure overtakes you like a slow rolling tide. It's a glorious, dangerous thing, to defy Rick's control. A low, shameful moan rips from your throat. Perhaps your body was waiting just long enough for Jerry to be out of earshot. You shut your eyes against Rick’s stern disapproval, but there's a thrill knowing he's watching you. The vibrator extends your pleasure as you squeeze around it, drawing out the tension and sustaining the release, Eventually the storm passes and you're left shivering, trying to catch your breath, and Rick is there waiting when you open your eyes.

 

"Are you done? Did you get it all out?" He strips down to nothing, takes the vibrator away, turns it off.

You look at him. No reason to feel guilty, you tell yourself. "Yeah…” His flat expression pressures you to break the uncomfortable silence. “You're not going to go eat dessert with your family?"

"It's not ice cream, I'm not interested." His cock twitches, not quite as erect as before the Jerry interlude. He climbs back on the bed, straddling your hips. He sits on his heels, his balls rest on your stomach. They are pleasantly warm, and the hair tickles you a bit. "They make me a farewell dinner and it’s not even have my favorite foods.” He burps. “What kinda bullshit is that?" He takes himself in hand and starts stroking, his other hand going to your breasts. He squeezes one, then the other, going back and forth like he can't get decide which he wants to touch more. 

Even when he's pissed, you've never felt unsafe with Rick. He's straightforward, not pushy. He tells you what he wants and moves on if you can't give it to him. You could tell him to stop now, and he would untie you and that would be the end of it. See you next week. Other times, when you've hesitated, or told him no, he's backed off-- he doesn't have the capacity to be comforting, really, but he is respectful and that's enough.

Which is all to say, his current sour mood isn’t off putting. You lick your lips, which doesn't escape his notice. He follows your gaze. "O-oh, you want this?" His cock is thick and red and heavy, just out of reach. This might be your last chance to get him off for a while, and besides, you really do feel bad about your transgression.

"I'm hungry," you say. "And you're making me late for dinner." _Do I have a death wish?_ That's a question you should have asked yourself the first time you met him. 

Rick grimaces "Don't tr-- no wry one liners, those are my thing. You can't pull it off. And no, you can’t have it. I’ve decided I’m-- I’m gonna give you a choice. Option 1--” he holds up his free hand, no longer squeezing your breasts “--you open your mouth and I shoot my load in the direction of your face and I, uh… if you’re lucky maybe you get a taste. Option 2 is…” he trails off, perhaps for dramatic effect. 

“What?” You prompt him.

“A surprise.”

An exasperated huff would be appropriate here, but you resist. Knowing Rick, he’d leave you tied up here all night with the slightest provocation. Either way, your plans are already irreparably ruined. “Fine. Surprise me.”

He grins. “That-- eeeuurgh-- that was the right answer.” He gets up, only to kneel at your legs again. At your confusion, he clarifies: “Don’t you-- uh, don't go gettin the wrong idea. I'm doing this because I loooove eating pussy and yours is fuckin world class. I don't give a shit if you cum again, I just-- you taste _so good._ ” His voice goes muffled at the end, when he buries his face in your cunt. 

The heat and wetness of his mouth are fantastic, but his tongue is divine. He laps at your slit, teasing the tender flesh like nothing and no one else can. He luxuriates in you, for his own enjoyment, as he said, but he brings you close all the same. And keeps you there, the bastard. He has you quivering and mewling, swirling his tongue around your clit like it’s his last meal. How much time has passed? You have no idea, drifting in a haze of longing, only vaguely aware that he is still stroking himself while he demonstrates his appreciation of your pussy. He has two fingers in you now, complementing the plug that's still in your ass. 

At a certain point, he seems to have sated his craving to lick you and gets up. You cry out at being deprived but all he offers you is his fingers, slick with your arousal. 

“Lick them clean,” he orders. After you do, he releases the restraints and removes the toy. For a moment, your heart drops. This is the surprise? He might send you off unsatisfied, that is a definite possibility given his nature. But no. He sits on the bed, instructs you to straddle him, and guides the head of his cock to your ass. You brace yourself holding on to his arms, half relieved and half anxious. Despite having been prepared, this is next level. You hold still as he pushes into the tight opening, your hips lowering back so he can fill you. 

_Fuck, he’s massive._ You realize you’ve been holding your breath, and exhale with as much control as you can muster. The sensation of being stretched and filled ratchets up the tension he’s built in you another notch. You just need to move. He slaps your ass when you squirm, though, and he’s biting his lip, uncharacteristically quiet.

For the second (third? You’ve lost count, he’s been playing with you for so long) time that evening, Rick mounts a slow, persistent conquest of your senses. He doesn’t even touch your clit, and you know better at this point than to do it yourself, though your hands are free. He thrusts shallowly at first, going deeper inch by inch as you adjust, all the while keeping the same unhurried pace. 

You try to be patient. You try to focus on anything other than the steady ache pulsing at your core, but this is his show. 

He rocks into your ass with languid, bouncing strokes, like a mockery of romantic lovemaking. He plays the strings of your libido like a soloist musician, masterfully, unbalancing you, until you can't stand it. You've begged and pouted and struggled, but he won't listen to you and his hands are like a vice around your waist. So you do him one better. The risky thing. The stupid thing. The thing _he_ would do. 

Tentatively, you put your hand around his neck. You can feel the tendons, taut and straining, and his adam's apple. The skin is softer than you would have expected, wrinkled and a bit loose. This small action flips your perspective. Rick projects himself as larger than life, but up close he is only flesh and bone (and cybernetic enhancements). His eyes widen, he exhales. Suddenly, you feel less daring and more protective. You are now the owner of his pleasure. And the thought thrills you. 

He gives you a taunting smile, short of breath. "H-harder." 

Liquid heat suffuses you. You lean forward, putting more weight behind your hand. Rick's hands slide down further. You expect him to wrench away at any second, to reassert his dominance but he doesn't. He starts to go faster. 

“ _Oh fuck… yes, Rick,_ ” you hear yourself say. His eyes flutter closed and his mouth opens. He strains against the lack of oxygen, gasping. You hold tighter, going horizontal over him, your face next to his at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You moan in his ear, the intimacy feeling somehow naughtier than anything else. Faster again. How did it take you this long to figure out what he likes? You tell him you’re going to cum from his dick in your ass, he feels so good, please, please. Maybe he’s conscious enough to hear it. His hands grip your ass now, pulling your hips down to meet his coming up. 

“Rick, please, I want-- I need--” how can he give you permission when you’re choking him? “--I’m going to cum…” You let go of his throat as your pleasure starts to crest, and when you do, he snaps, driving almost his entire length fast and hard into your ass. Finally, he presses his thumb to your clit. You cry out, the only coherent word being his name. Your orgasm swells with his rhythm, a crescendo of sensual ecstasy that makes you curl your fingers in his hair. 

His release hits, loud and primal. You're not sure you've ever seen him let himself relinquish control in this way, under you and moaning your name. He slams into you, reaming you hard enough that his balls slap your ass, over and over, ruthless in his pursuit of deliverance. You ride him, clinging to his shoulders, the waves of your own orgasm outlasting him, until he slows. He pats your butt and mumbles something, but an ill-timed burp obscures whatever he was trying to tell you. You rest where you are, on top of him. 

The air has turned close and sultry. Rick’s breathing diminishes to an even, peaceful tempo. You listen to the muffled voices in the dining room, a happy time which Rick eschewed to come back here. The small room is empty and quiet. At which point your stomach seizes its chance for the spotlight, and gurgles. You lift your head sheepishly. 

Aaaaand he's asleep. Snoring, drooling from the corner of his mouth. Oh well. He _is_ an old man. You rouse yourself gingerly, uncoupling from him as neatly as possible-- but he's gone and made a mess of you again. You wipe yourself clean with tissues, feeling wistful. This had always been about convenience, for both of you. And now that it will no longer be convenient, it won’t happen, most likely. 

You dress. It is time to leave. It would have been easier, earlier, if he hadn't pulled you in here. If you had somewhere to be, instead of a missed date you now must apologize to.

But as soon as you take a step towards the door, Rick squints at you. "Where are you going? Thought you were hungry."

"I am. I was going to head home to eat, since that guy I was supposed to meet probably got pissed and left." You check your phone. Yep, 3 missed calls and a slew of increasingly vitriolic texts messages. "Oh, look, he went from asking 'where u at' to calling me a dumb ungrateful rapebait whore in only a hundred words! Anyway, I should probably sneak out of here while I still can." 

Rick sits up. "Don't bother. A window licker like Jerry won't notice, and I'm worried his stupidity is rubbing off on Beth. What did you say your, uh, date's name was again?" He takes the box of tissues you offer him and cleans himself up. 

"Billiam."

Rick belches and farts at the same time. "That's a chinless turd's name if I ever heard one." He takes his portal gun from his discarded coat, fiddles with some settings, then stands up. "Be right back." He opens a portal and steps through, completely naked, before you can protest or remind him of his nudity. A minute later, a portal opens at the same spot, and Rick reappears. "Here."

"Is that his laptop?"

"Do what you want with it. Show your colleagues all his degenerate porn fetishes in his internet search history, ruin his reputation, go nuts. You academics love that petty revenge, right?"

"We do. It's just as good as, if not better than, poetic justice." You attempt another awkward shuffle towards the door. Neither of you are used to lingering after sex. If he's at your place, he leaves, often without bothering to make even a perfunctory excuse. If you're at his, he has various subtle and not so subtle ways of dismissing you. It hasn't concerned you much before. Except this time, you pause. "Well, um, I guess next time I'll see you at Cocoon Creek or something," you say. The idea makes you sad, but you have no idea why.

Rick blinks. "What? I'm not g-- you really thought I was gonna go along with that?" He groans. "No. I'm not leaving my grandkids to be poisoned by stupidity and incompetence. I'm having-- I have a plan. 

“And I'm-- you missed your date, talk about dodging a bullet, but I, uh, I can take you to dinner, if you want. A-are you-- you wanna get something to eat?" He stammers through this offer, and lapses into a vulnerable silence. You realize, when you meet his eyes, that his family had rejected him today, and you nearly had too. He'll never admit that he needed you, though. This is as close to an apology as you are going to get. 

You smile. “Are you going to put on clothes first?”

“No. I-in fact, for where I’m gonna take you, you should probably get naked.”

“And where is that? Because I have to be at--”

“Lecture in the morning, I know. Jeez, come up with an original excuse. Aaaanyway, I’m gonna need an extra pair of hands for my super secret ‘Operation: Jerry Assassination’ plan, and I wanted to talk to you about your research on leaf beetle swarms, I think it could help in my drone design.” 

After seeing how Jerry treated Rick, and had nearly walked in on you, you aren’t as sympathetic towards him as you used to be. ‘Assassinate Jerry’ almost seems like a reasonable proposition. "Ok, fine, but can we get ice cream afterward?" 

Excitement lights Rick’s face, like that’s the best idea he’s ever heard. “Ice cream? Hellllls to the yes, let’s do that fi--eeeuurgh--irst. I-I know a place, clothing optional, so we’re both good.” He opens a portal and holds out his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaalrighty so my husband wanted me to end this little series with the Reader ordering a deli sandwich and eating the pickle that comes with it, only to realize she just ate Rick but ummm I decided against that. Anyway, if you're here, thank you so much for reading! I have had a lot of fun writing all these, and I hope you enjoyed them.


End file.
